


Broken Glass

by FanficFixation



Category: White Collar
Genre: Explosions, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Neal, Injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-06-09 20:19:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6921799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficFixation/pseuds/FanficFixation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a friendship shatters it's hard to put the pieces back together, but sometimes all it takes is an unexpected wake up call to make things right again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing anything white collar related so I hope its enjoyable, I have another few chapters planned for this depending on how well it goes down.
> 
> Hopefully there are not too many grammatical errors, (you have no idea how many times I had to change mobile phone to cell phone ect) aha,
> 
> anyway, enjoy.

Neal let out an irritated sigh as he side stepped swiftly on the crowded pathway he was walking on to narrowly avoid colliding with a strangers shoulder. The streets were humming with activity as everyone battled the crowded roads and subways in the early morning work rush.

The CI navigated his way with quick ease, carefully weaving through the swarms of people. Despite the congestion and the occasional shoulder bump there were worse ways to commute to work. The weather was surprisingly pleasant, the cool temperature made his walk much more tolerable than it would have been if he had taken the subway.

Of course there was nothing stopping him from catching a cab, but over the past few months he'd grown used to having some time to clear his head before arriving at the office.

Things had been tense between him and Peter, hardly unsurprising considering everything that had happened with Keller and the Nazi loot not that long ago. Neal wasn't surprised the first morning Peter didn't turn up to give him a ride to work, the pair couldn't even stand in the same room for more than five minutes without the atmosphere becoming unbearable, let alone be stuck in the same car every morning.

He didn't blame Peter for his change in attitude, Neal had put the most important person in Peter's life in danger; no number of apologies could change that.

The CI was sure it would only be a matter of time before he was transferred to another department, or even given a new handler; it would probably be better for everybody if he was out of the way. He felt like an unwanted nuisance at the office, at least if he was transferred the cloud of tension that seemed to follow him around would hopefully disappear. Now he just had to wait it out and eventually the inevitable would happen.

Of course he would miss little things, like the horrible smell of devilled ham and listening to the game while he and Peter were on a stakeout, stealing Peter's things when he wasn't looking; even the long nights spent in the van with Jones and Diana.

The honking of a horn startled him from his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed he'd stopped at a cross walk and the light had turned green.

He shook his head as he Jogged across the road; the last thing he needed was to be late. He looked down for a brief moment to glance at his watch when suddenly there was a deafening bang. Before Neal could look up he felt a blast of heat from behind him as he was knocked off his feet and vision tunneled.

It was the sound of screaming that ultimately pulled him from the darkness.

Neal's eyes fluttered open; dazed he winced as he felt his head throb with intensity. He tried to blink away the apparent dust making his eyes water but only succeeded in making the stinging worse. The cold hard concrete beneath his body did little to ease his discomfort.

His brain struggled to process his thoughts.

Why was there screaming?

And how the hell had he ended up on the floor?

The CI tried to put out a hand to push himself to his feet when a sharp stab of pain made him cry out. He pulled his arm tightly towards his chest, gritting his teeth at the uncomfortable twinge spreading throughout the limb.

His arm was definitely broken.

Ignoring the stiffness in his muscles, he rolled over onto his left side and used his good arm to push himself upright. He almost recoiled when the palm of his hand began twinging in irritation; Neal was baffled to see that the ground beneath him was covered in pieces of crushed, rough broken glass.

Neal staggered to his feet unsteadily, frowning at the growing chaos around him in confusion while he tried to stay upright.

The ground was littered with dark ash and dust.

Dazed drivers stumbled from their vehicles, abandoning their car's to get away from the bellowing smoke pouring from the charred remains of a burning car in the middle of the street. Hot flames burned from every window of the ruined car, the heavy smell of petrol and burning was choking; polluting the air.

Even with the near constant ringing in his ears he could hear the sound of car alarms wailing loudly, until the screams of onlookers were cut out by the noisy sirens of the emergency services.

Neal was distracted from the bedlam at the feeling of something warm trickling down the side of his face. He touched his forehead gingerly, startled when saw that his fingertips were covered in blood.

At least that explained the headache.

A shout from behind him startled him.

'Everybody step back!'

A group of cop's jumped out of a squad car and began cornering off the area in an urgent frenzy.

'Jesus Christ, somebody get the white suits down here now, make sure nobody touches anything!'

He followed the gaze of the cop shouting urgently at the radio is his hand, his stomach turned when he spotted the bloody remains of a person's hand, lying exposed in the middle of the road.

The sight filled him with alarm. Neal could feel bile creeping up his throat; he quickly turned his head away from the gruesome scene, swaying on his feet when a strong feeling of light-headedness threatened to knock him off balance.

It was alarming to think if he had been standing any closer it could have been his arm on the floor.

Even after seeing the welcoming sight of fluorescent jackets belonging to arriving paramedics his panic overrode rationality. He couldn't stay there a minute longer, he had to move; it wasn't safe to linger on the streets.

What if there was another explosion?

Neal slowly staggered forwards, dragging his feet heavily across the pavement. The world began to tilt though his vision, but he pushed himself forward. His aching arm hung limply by his side but he ignored the stiffness in his limbs and carried on one small step at a time.

The CI didn't acknowledge the concerned gazes of onlookers.

Right now he was moving on autopilot.

There was only one thing on his mind right now; he had to get to the office and find safety.

He had to find Peter.

 

Peter took large swig of stale coffee, barely suppressing a shudder at the foul tasting liquid. The aftertaste was awful but he desperately needed the caffeine to kick start his system, it wasn't even 8:30 and he was already flagging.

He skimmed through his emails unenthusiastically, squinting tiredly as the small font on the brightly lit screen began to make his eyes ache.

God he was so tired.

Lately he was always feeling wrung out. No amount of sleep or caffeinated beverages could rid him of the worry and stress that seemed to plague him constantly.

Almost every minute of the day he had to fight the urge to pick up the phone and ring Elizabeth to see if she was ok; but by now he knew better than to give in to temptation. He'd already been scolded enough lately by his wife about the constant stream of texting and phone calls. She knew his heart was is the right place but unsurprisingly it was becoming smothering.

No matter how hard he tried Peter couldn't help being paranoid.

Just because Keller was behind bars, Peter couldn't guarantee that there weren't any of his accomplices still roaming the streets.

Things would never be the same again, especially between him and Neal.

What little trust that had existed between them was now completely gone. He had tried his best to be civil for the sake of work but it was almost intolerable, he couldn't even look the CI in the eye without feeling a twinge of resentment.

Peter was very disappointed.

At one time he had actually thought it was possible for Neal to change, but apparently it was impossible. The thrill of a well-planned heist and the desire for expensive paintings and relics were clearly more important to the con man then the fresh start he'd been offered.

Tensions were strained and awkward at the office but Peter wasn't sure what the long term solution was to keeping things smooth, sooner or later Hughes would notice how he kept sending Jones or Diana to work a case with the CI rather than himself. That reminded him; he had another mortgage fraud case that needed to be dealt with.

He glanced through the glass surrounding his office; there was no sign of Neal yet. He frowned at the clock on his desk, 8:35 and Neal still wasn't there; he was cutting it a little fine.

Peter let out a jaw popping yawn, he sighed before standing to his feet; it seemed that he would need one more cup of coffee after all. He grabbed the day's case files from his desk before he slipped through the glass door with ease. He'd made it half way down the small set of stairs when out of nowhere a loud bang stunned the whole office. The ground quaked for a split second before stilling; the whole department was suddenly blanketed in a moment of silence.

Peter let go of the stair railing that he had grasped onto, looking around the room in bewilderment.

Hughes was the first to break the awkward silence.

'What the hell was that?'

A frenzy of chatter opened up around the room as everyone peered cautiously out of the windows, studying the streets below for answers.

In the distance a bellow of smoke could be seen rising into the air just a few blocks away, though the surrounding buildings obscured their vision from making any real speculations.

Peter subconsciously reached in his pocket for his cell phone; he had another strong urge to call El again before his rational mind reminded him she was out of town.

Damn it, get a grip Burke.

'Jones, call the local PD and find out what's going on out there.'

'I'm already on it.'

'Everyone stay where you are, nobody leaves this room until we know what's going on,' Hughes voice conveyed uncertainty.

Peter began ushering everyone away from the windows, trying to compose a sense of order.

'It's probably just an accident but let's just exercise caution ok?'

He did a quick head count as everyone went back to their desks, among the concerned faces in the office Neal's wasn't one of them. He felt frustration building; god damn it where the hell was he?

He fumed at the thought of the consultant still sleeping in at Junes while this was going on. He fumbled with his cell before dialling Neal's number, cursing when it went rang out straight to voicemail.

'Damn it Neal where the hell you?' he slammed his hand down on the desk frustration, redialling Neal's number.

'Diana pull up Caffrey's tracking data, find out where the hell he is.'

'You got it boss.'

He began drumming his fingers on the edge of the desk impatiently as he waited for Diana to log on to Neal's tracking data. Someone's phone was ringing constantly in the background, grating on his every last nerve.

'Would someone answer that damn phone?!' he snapped.

'Boss…'

His attention turned away from the computer screen and followed Diana's gaze toward the doorway, and his stomach dropped at the sight that greeted him.

Staggering unsteadily out of the elevator was none other than the CI himself.

In that short moment, all of his anger vanished.

'Oh my god.'

Neal was covered from head to toe in soot and dust. Crushed shards of broken glass littered the shoulders of his torn, ruined suit jacket.

His face was covered in smudges of dirt and blood; his cheeks were littered with small bloody scratches; more worryingly there was a thick trail of blood, dripping across his forehead and trickling down one side of his face.

The only sound that pierced the silence was the continuous ringing of a cell phone.

Peter looked down to see a phone clutched in Neal's bloodied quivering hand; the phone was ringing from Peter's call, but Neal didn't seem to notice; he just continued to stare vacantly, lingering in the doorway.

Peter forced himself to move, pushing aside the shock he cautiously moved to stand in front of the shuddering consultant.

'N-Neal?'

Peter's stuttering voice seemed to bring him out of his daze; Neal took a shaky breath, swallowing heavily before his glassy eyes met Peter's.

'Sorry I'm late.'


	2. Chapter 2

In hindsight, hauling his wounded battered body pitifully across town in a frenzied determination to make it to the office probably hadn't been Neals smartest plan to date.

He still wasn't entirely sure why he'd thought that it was such a sound idea at the time. His bruised legs carried him away from the scene before he even realised what direction he was heading in.

Truthfully he wasn't thinking at all, he was moving on autopilot.

In his defence, the recent stress of an unexpected trauma had probably compromised his brains ability to make logical decisions. Either that or maybe he was just too stubborn for his own good.

Most people would probably opt for the latter of the two.

Honestly all he'd wanted was to get away from the _noise_.

The streets were manic, full of distraught strangers shouting and crying hysterically in pain and confusion. The deafening sirens of the approaching emergency services and the agravating ringing in his ears did little to ease his fragile state, the constant string of sounds only succeeded in aggravating Neals delicate senses. He couldnt concentrate, everything was happening all at once, his mind couldnt grasp the confusing jumble of thoughts and sounds echoing around in his skull; he felt like his head was going to explode.

Everything was just _too loud_ and _too bright_.

Neal stumbled around the familiar street corners in his dazed state, vaguely aware of the hushed whispers and gasps being emitted from passers-by. As he stumbled on unsteady legs, a throbbing pain in his ankle caused him to grit his teeth with each step he took. It was his tracking anklet, the unrelenting hard plastic was chafing unforgivingly at his raw and irritated skin.

Neal drowned out the familiar sounds of the city until he felt close to drifting; the only sound echoing in his ears was his own thundering heartbeat.

At one point it felt as if someone had tried to grab hold of his shoulder in concern, but he quickly shrugged it off and limped on, blinking away the wet blood resting in his lashes.

_Don't stop, keep going…._

The CI could have sobbed in relief when he finally caught sight of a familiar set of revolving doors. He stumbled through the deserted lobby and headed straight for the elevator with only one destination in mind.

He fumbled weakly with the buttons, not noticing the bloody fingerprints he was leaving smeared across the keypad.

Every movement flared a fiery stab of pain in his arm, but there was little he could do to stop it. Breathing deeply he cradled the injured limb to his chest, Neal leaned back against the cold metal, his knees quivered as the elevator began to ascend with a jerk. Had he not braced his good hand against the wall to steady himself, he would have certainly ended up in a graceless heap across the floor.

The artificial glare of the lighting was making his head pound, and accompanied by the jolts of the elevator, it did little to soothe the nausea lingering in the pit of his stomach. He closed his eyes, hoping that sheer willpower was enough to stop himself from throwing up in Peter's office.

He'd have great difficulty trying to live that down.

When the elevator finally shuddered to a halt it felt like a short eternity had passed before the doors finally glided open. He stood there for a short moment, feeling every muscle in his body ache in protest as he took a hesitant step out onto the grey carpeted floor.

The CI could feel the room spinning beneth his feet. He pushed weakly against the glass door with his shoulder, the door popped open but Neal had no energy to move from where he was curled heavily against the doorframe.

Completly unaware that the buzzing of chattering voices he'd heard when he entered had now come to a sharp stop, Neal continued leaning in the doorway, staring at the dull carpet in a trance.

'N-Neal?'

Hesitantly he lifted his gaze, and was flooded with relief when he saw an anxious face staring back at him.

_'Peter,'_ he whispered, breathless.

His vision was tunneling, he could feel his hands shaking erratically as the last ounce of energy left him.

He met Peter's stare with an apologetic glance as his legs folded beneth him.

'Sorry I'm Late.'

* * *

Peter watched in horror as Neal's legs gave out dramatically beneath him.

He was beside him in an instant, he lunged forward quickly just in time to grasp him by the arm as he began to topple towards the floor. Jones was quick to assist him, the pair held him upright as best as they could until they guided him to the nearest chair, he toppled onto it heavily, limbs swaying as if his body was made of rubber.

Time seemed to stand still for Agent Burke.

The anger and frustration the consumed him a seconds earlier had now completely vanished.

He was in shock.

He found it almost impossible to keep his eyes off of his disoriented CI. The first thing he couldn't help but notice was the blood, as it seemed to be everywhere. There were crimson bloody smears across his face, in his hair; even the glass door to the White Collar Division was covered in gruesome red fingerprints like a scene from a horror film.

Then there was the state of his ruined suit.

Peter winced at the appearance of Neal's tattered suit jacket, it was covered in inches of grime and dust, there were jagged tears in the fabric where it had been seemingly ripped at the arms. It was definitely beyond saving.

Neal always boasted that he had a good dry cleaner, but somehow Peter had a feeling that this time the only place that Byron's suit was going was into the trash can.

Burke squinted at the debris sitting on the shoulders when he saw something glisten under the office lighting.

_'Oh my god,'_

There were unmistakable sharp shards of glass embedded in the fabric, and possibly into Neal's skin.

However Peter found himself quickly distracted when he noticed a worrying amount of blood trickling from a gash in his forehead.

Head wounds tended to bleed a lot, and Burke tried to reassure himself that it probably looked worse than it actually was but he wasn't entirely convinced. The sluggish liquid pooling down the side of Neal's face and dripping onto the carpet was enough to snap him back to reality.

'Diana, get me a med-kit right now!'

'Here, take these,' she appeared quickly by his side, pressing a large wad of paper towels into his hands.

'I'll be right back.'

He wasted no time and began mopping Neal's bleeding forehead gingerly, Diana quickly excused herself and disappeared into the small crowd of gawping Agents that suddenly seemed to surround them.

The shock that had consumed him just moments ago was eradicated by fiery anger and concern for Neal's well being.

'What the hell are you waiting for? One of you stop staring and call EMT's in here right now god damn it!'

Neal didn't even flinch at Peter's loud voice in his ear; he just continued to stare ahead vacantly,unseeing.

'C'mon guys you heard the man, give him some space alright?' Jones said as he began ushering everyone back to their desks.

'Neal?'

Cautiously Peter placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze in an attempt to bring him out of his trance like state.

Neal said nothing, but his body continued to shake and tremor is his seat, Peter had no idea if it was from fear or exhaustion.

'Neal?' he spoke a little louder, but still nothing.

Hesitantly, he reached out slowly and gently grasped his chin with a delicate touch, tilting Neal's head to face his own. His fingertips accidentally brushed against a dark blossoming bruise on his cheek, causing the CI to stir into awareness.

'P-Peter?'

His eyes were on Peter, no longer staring into space but they were still glazed and unfocused, filled with tension.

'Neal? Hey stay with me buddy, don't you check out on me.'

Diana returned, handing Peter some more paper towels and a lukewarm bottle of water, rummaging through the small first aid kit she'd returned with. He began dabbing at the bleeding gash on Neal's forehead when the CI flinched violently.

'Ah!' He hissed, recoiling quickly.

'Easy there Caffrey.'

The movement nearly sent him toppling off his chair, and if it weren't for Jones standing next to him he would have easily been sprawled across the carpet.

'Neal, I need you to calm down and listen to me very carefully.'

Peter rested a hand on Neal's Knee and the ex con prised his eyes open, the contact seemed to reassure him and bring him down to a calmer state.

'Neal, I need you to listen to me, this is very important. Are you listening?'

Caffrey exhaled shakily before meeting Peter's gaze, nodding halfheartedly and wincing at the pressure Peter was putting on his bleeding head.

'You need to tell me what happened. Why are you bleeding?'

Peter could almost see Neal's brain whirring as he frowned, trying to piece his jumbled thoughts together.

His brows creased in concentration as he stuttered, struggling to get his words out.

'I-I was, I was on the f-floor, I think- I think I fell over….'

He was still in shock.

'Okay, good, that's good Neal, but can you remember why you fell over?' Peter spoke slowly and calmly, urging Neal to give him an answer.

Neal fell silent for a moment, a few minutes passed by in silence. Peter thought he had checked out again when suddenly he spoke.

'There was a- there w-was a car, I- I think.'

_A car?_

Peter's mind went into overdrive.

God, did he get hit by a _car_?

Then he remembered the smoke everyone had seen from the office earlier.

Were they connected somehow?

Peter took a good hard look at the young man propped up in front of him as he continued gently mopping his face.

God he was so pale, the dirt and dark red littering his skin seemed to wash out his colour completely. The clumsy stuttering and stumbling over his words was so unlike Neal. It was difficult to imagine that something had reduced the cool, charming Neal Caffrey into a nervous jittery wreck. He wanted more answers but he knew Neal was in no state to answer any questions right now, not when he was clearly traumatised by whatever he'd seen.

'Okay buddy that's enough, you did great okay just relax.'

He hadn't even noticed until now that Neal had been clutching his cell phone in his hand the whole time he'd been sat down. It was grasped tightly between his fingers; like he was holding onto a life line.

'How about we put this down and get you out of that jacket, lets make you a bit more comfortable hmm?'

He carefully prised it out of Neal's hand and carefully placed it on the table next to him, taking note of the large crack that branched across the screen. Until they could figure out what exactly had happened, Peter knew it was vital that they bagged Neal's phone and clothes into evidence. He cursed inwardly when he realised he'd touched the phone without gloves on.

'Jones, get me some bags.'

He pulled on a pair of medical gloves from small med kit on the table before grabbing the suit jacket by the collar and carefully slipping it down Neal's shoulders. He eased the fabric as cautiously as possible, trying to preserve every piece debris.

Abruptly Neal jumped in his seat, he let out a loud gasp; flinching violently as he cried out in pain, startling everyone around him.

'S-stop!' he panted, pulling his arm against his chest he groaned in discomfort.

'Woah easy Neal! Calm down buddy, what's wrong?'

'M-my arm hurts,' he hissed, there were tears in his eyes.

'Okay, it's okay I'm sorry, I'll be more careful okay?'

By now Jones had returned with evidence bags in hand, with some gently coaxing the pair managed to free Neal from his battered suit and quickly seal it away.

He pushed a cool bottle of water to Neal's lips, urging him to drink something.

'Just a little, it'll make you feel better,' he coaxed.

He barely took a sip before turning his head away.

The CI was Leaning back against the chair heavily, clearly exhausted, his eyes were drooping as he fought to stay awake. He coughed weakly, groaning when the movement caused another throb of pain from his shoulder. Peter cringed at his discomfort, from the looks of things the arm was almost certainly broken; the adrenaline had obviously worn off. The blood on his forehead had begun to dry and was flaking off onto his shirt and Peter was reminded how peaky and gaunt Cafferys face was.

'Boss, the paramedics are here.'

Peter let out a sigh of relief.

'Thanks Diana,'

He pushed himself wearily to his feet to give them some room to work.

Jones stayed with Neal whilst Diana pulled Peter to one side.

'Boss you should hear this.'

The female paramedic beside Diana held a grim expression.

'There was an explosion a few blocks from here, all the emergency services are backed up, that's why it took us so long to get here.' she explained, apologetic.

Peter felt his stomach churn.

_Neal had been caught in a explosion?_

'Any idea what caused the blast?' Diana questioned, her eyes drifted over the sight of Neal being shifted into a wheel chair.

The woman shook her head.

'The police haven't said much, could be anything from a gas leak to a home made bomb.'

She quickly excused herself to help her colleague.

'Boss, you don't think it was terrorism do you?'

'I don't know what to think' Peter sighed, rubbing his temples. 'I want you and Jones to look into this, pull up everything you can find, I want to know exactly what happened.'

'You got it boss.'

The EMT's approached slowly, carefully wheeling Neal towards the elevators.

'We'll be taking Mr Caffrey now Agent Burke.'

Before he could be wheeled out of sight, Neal shot out his good arm, grabbing Peter's wrist tightly.

Peter felt his heart drop when he saw the fear in his eyes.

'Peter...'

Neal didn't have to say anything for Peter to guess his unspoken words.

_Please don't leave me._

Peter grasped his fingers, swallowing back his wavering emotions he offered a reassuring smile.

'I'm not going anywhere without you.'

_I promise._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your reviews and messages, they really do motivate me. I originally planned to end this fic after 3 chapters as a one shot, but I have now decided to continue it because of the interest. This chapters a short one, but I hope you enjoy it.

Everything was white.

God, Peter hated white.

The colour was supposed to symbolise purity and innocence, it was supposed to be the shade of perfection, represent safety and cleanliness; but when Peter stared at the endless number of cheap plastic chairs and white walls surrounding him he felt far from welcome. To him white was only associated with the hurt and despair that came with any hospital visit, it made him feel tense and uneasy. 

He stared anxiously at the clock on the wall ahead of him, the obnoxious loud ticking seemed to be mocking him as it taunted every second that passed by. He had been there almost two hours without hearing a single word from any of the nurses. The cheap tasting coffee in his right hand had turned cold long ago but he still continued to grasp the cup in his sweaty palm, his fingertips tapping anxiously against the rim. 

Peter's eyes drifted to the small grainy television screen above the nurses station. He watched dejectedly as the news anchors played blurred footage recorded on an onlookers cell phone, showing the eerie charred smoking remains of a burnt out car and scattered debris on a now deserted street. 

'Although it has not yet been officially confirmed, our sources say that It has been estimated that at least 15 people lost their lives today in the explosion, leaving countless other bystanders injured.'

The video feed ended and the camera cut back to a solemn looking news reporter. 

'With the NYPD yet to release any official statement, there are rumours and speculation on the possibility of terrorism, the public wait anxiously for reassurance.'

15 people dead. 

It made Burke feel physically sick to think that Neal was almost one of them.

He'd stayed with his CI just long enough to see the nurses quickly wrestle him out of his ruined clothes, before being whisked away for scans and tests. After a quick phone call to the marshals Peter removed the anklet so Neal could have his arm X-rayed. It took a lot of patience to ignore the nurses uneasy looks when he reassured them that Neal was no danger to himself or others and had no reason to be handcuffed. 

Peter could barely take his eyes off the blackened bruise that the tracker had left on Neal's swollen ankle.

For the first time in a long while he new that the trust he put in Neal would not be misplaced this time. Neal wouldn't run no matter how wounded he was, not after he had sought Peter out.

Even after everything that had happened between then Neal still saw Peter as a lifeline, and that felt like a kick in the gut. 

So now he found himself hunched in the corner seat of an overcrowded waiting room, filled with anxious families and wailing children, every noise set his teeth on edge. If he didn't hear any new's soon he was going to quickly loose his patience. 

Peter was snapped out of his pitiful daze when his cell phone began to vibrate in his jacket pocket. He was both relieved and anxious for the distraction when he saw Diana's name appear on the caller ID.

'Diana, please tell me you've got something.'

'Boss, DHS are still investigating, but they've just confirmed that the explosion was caused by some type of homemade car bomb.'

Peter scrubbed a hand over his face, leaning back in his chair he rested his shoulders against the hard wall behind him as he let out a gasp.

'Jesus..'

'They wont say much else at all, getting information out of them is like trying to squeeze blood out of a stone,' Diana sounded frustrated.  
'They keep telling me its out of our jurisdiction, even after I told them about-.'

Peter cut off her frustrated ramblings.

'Diana calm down, just tell me what you know.'

She let out a deep sigh.

'Sorry Boss, there are tech's combing through all the CCTV in the surrounding areas, but almost all the cameras were wiped out in the blast; its going to take hours to retrieve all of the footage from the back up databases, assuming it hasn't been lost when most of the cables were fried.'

'Do they know who the target was?'

'No not yet, can't be sure if its terrorism or a hit on someone until they can identify the car it came from, the whole thing was destroyed, including the license plate and all the VIN numbers. They're trying to confirm the ID of the body but it might take a while, I'm assuming there's not much left of it.'

There was an awkward pause before she spoke again.

'How's Caffrey?'

Peter groaned tiredly.

'Well, they took him away for tests, but they seem pretty confident he's fractured his arm in at least two places, other than that I have absolutely no idea.'

'Have you spoken to Elizabeth yet?'

'No not yet, she's at her parents and I don't want to spoil her weekend just yet, you know how she worries.'

Peter struggled to hold back a yawn, fatigue was finally catching up with him.

'Keep me updated Diana, I want to know everything you find out, get Jones to help you chase up the CCTV.'

'You got it boss, tell Caffrey I'll be waiting to sign his cast.'

Peter pocketed his cell phone before glancing down at his watch, becoming instantly fidgety when he noticed just how long it had been since Neal was admitted. 

Time to flag down a nurse and get some answers.

 

'Please hold still Mr Caffrey, it's important that we assess your vision.'

Neal fought back a growl of irritable frustration as he struggled not to flinch at the cold fingers prying his weary eyes open. One of the nurses kept shining a small light in his eyes and it was starting to give him a headache. He was feeling drained and irritable and all he wanted was to be left alone to brood in peace.

Not only had the day started with him being knocked off his feet by an explosion, but now he found himself aching painfully as he was poked and prodded on a hospital bed.

The itchy sheets irritated his exposed skin that was peeking out of a paper thin hospital gown. It was a good job he was sitting down, he was certain that his bruised ass was definatley exposed to the world.

On a normal day he probably have found some humour in the situation but the CI was in no good mood. 

Though he supposed he should be grateful that he hadn't broken his neck when he had been somersaulted across the pavement, a small part of him wished he had. 

Neal was pretty confident that today was the second worst day of his life so far.

The first being the day Keller had abducted Elizabeth

The thought made him shudder, the shock had worn off well over an hour ago when the doctors had pumped him full of drugs but he still felt raw. His whole body was covered in bruises and scrapes, making it impossible to sit comfortably. His arm was in a tight sling but his shoulder still throbbed horribly, he didn't need to see the x-ray results to know that it was broken; he could feel the bones shifting around every time he tried to move it. Three of his fingers were in splints, it was a small blessing that he was ambidextrous but he obviously wouldn't be painting again any time soon.

His ankle was propped up on a pillow, it was swollen twice its normal size; no thanks to the tracking anklet that had strangled his blood circulation. It was a relief that it had been removed but at the same time it made him feel uneasy. There was always distrust when Neal wasn't wearing his anklet, everyone expected him to run.

He was half expecting the marshals to storm into his cubicle any second and cuff him to the bed but he knew that wouldn't happen, not if Peter had anything to say about it.

Despite their differences lately having Peter around made him feel safe.

Still, the thought of Peter waiting around outside formed a tight knot in his stomach. He was probably pissed that he'd managed to get himself caught up in another drama.

What on earth was he supposed to say to the man?

After everything he'd put him through in the past months somehow saying sorry just didn't seem good enough. 

The sound of curtains shifting jolted him into awareness, he turned his head to face another nurse when an excruciating pain hit him right between the eyes, assaulting his senses. 

Even with his eyes closed it still felt like the room was spinning around him in dizzying circles. 

'My head hurts,' he muttered, desperately trying to swallow back the nauseous feeling creeping up on him.

'Your suffering from mild dehydration Mr Caffery, I'm going to administer you some fluids that should make you feel better, just try to relax.'

Neal barely registered her words, he was too caught up in the sensation of feeling like he was stuck on a merry go round. He leaned back against the mountain of pillows propping him upright and took deep breaths in through his nose to try and shake off the sickness he was feeling, but he only felt worse.

The curtains were pulled open again, only this time it wasn't the voice of a nurse that greeted him.

'Neal?'

The uneasy tone of Peter's voice washed over him like a tidal wave. 

There was an awkward pause as Neal slowly opened his eyes, gazing groggily at his handler.

'Peter,'

Neal's voice was barley a whisper.

Peter had hardly stepped a foot into the room when suddenly without warning, Neal jolted upright; leaned over the side of the bed and vomited onto the floor.

'Nurse!'

Neal repressed a miserable groan as he clutched onto bed rails tightly to stop himself slipping out of the bed. If things weren't uncomfortable before, they certainly were now. 

As Peter hovered awkwardly at the foot of his bed and the nurses came dashing in Neal found his thoughts returning full circle. 

He had changed his mind; today was undoubtedly the worst day of his life.


End file.
